S'morelettes and frozen peas
by Ky03elk
Summary: Creating a surprise birthday breakfast for Castle was supposed to be the hardest part of Kate's day - that was until Castle got involved. A tale of a birthday curse. For Lydian who suffered on her birthday just as much as Castle has. ONE SHOT.


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**S'morelettes and frozen peas**

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Happy Birthday to Lydian for last week and to Castle for next week

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Two very amazing people that inspire me with their words

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* * *

Sliding out of bed, Kate quietly makes her way through the bedroom. Each step is a careful placement of toes and heels as she attempts to move without creating a sound. Her eyes dart back and forth between the exit and Castle, who remains oblivious to her early morning escape - still fast asleep.

The comforter has at some point during the night made its way down his body, the material bunching low on his hips, while his shirt has moved in the opposite direction, riding high and exposing a delicious strip of skin that picks up the light that is becoming brighter with every passing minute. She fights against the devilish urge to return to bed, to wake him slowly with teeth and tongue, has to ignore the affectionate whisper that encourages her to tip-toe back to his side to pull the comforter up and tuck him in.

What she needs to do is pull her gaze away and focus on the task at hand.

Tomorrow is his birthday, but it's today that she has plans for, ones that - while they won't measure up to last year's murder mystery - will hopefully bring a smile to his face.

Closing the bedroom door softly, she cringes as the metallic click breaks the silence, her fingers squeezing the handle in a futile attempt to mask the noise. She shouldn't be so worried; when he sleeps well it's to the point of no return. A herd of elephants could dance merrily through the bedroom while she sings happy birthday and he still wouldn't wake, but he wasn't writing last night, which means his sleep is not as deep as it could be.

Her surprise is hardly going to be a surprise if he wakes up before she's ready.

Removing her hand gently - every movement's in slow motion - she pauses, listening intently for any sound from within the bedroom, but it appears as undisturbed as she left it and her body relaxes. The first deep breath of the morning makes its way into her lungs at having made it this far without detection, and a small smile tugs on her lips.

She's still on high alert though and drifting through the loft - a ghost that weaves around the obstacles - she finally comes to find herself standing inside the kitchen. Rubbing her hands together in anticipation, she begins, starting the process by pulling out a pan.

Using both hands to lower it onto the stovetop, she uses her fingers as a buffer until the metal sits flush and a sigh escapes her lips. If she keeps this pace up it will be lunchtime, not breakfast, before she is finished.

Picking up her speed, she gathers the ingredients, screwing her nose up as she looks down at the food now sitting on the counter. This is his special day, not hers, but seriously, the things one does for the person they love.

It's not until she has added what is needed to the glass mixing jug that she realizes her first mistake. The metal fork sounds like a chorus of bells when she attempts to stir and her forehead corrugates in contemplation. A plastic spoon won't be as effective but the idea of hunting for a plastic container could waste more precious time and she goes with the first option.

Just as she suspected, it takes twice as long to combine, and, sliding across to the hot plate, she waves a hand above the pan. The heat radiating from below feels perfect, and, as she breathes in through her nose, her eyes closing in contemplation, she visualizes the way he normally goes about this part. She'd been paying close attention the last time he had cooked this for himself, the idea spawning from that day, and it's now just a matter of replicating his actions - and attempting not to burn anything in the process.

"What are you doing?"

* * *

Kate jumps, and he reaches forward, a hand latching onto each of her hips, and he squeezes as she attempts to turn around.

Gliding his fingers up over the material of her leggings, over the band of elastic, he continues until the warmth of her skin touches his own. Nestling the front of his body flush against her back, his head dips lower, his mouth attaching to the base of her neck, and he dots tender kisses as he aims toward her hairline.

Working in tandem with his fingers, inching higher and higher until, unexpectedly, she pleads softly, "You need to go back to bed, Castle."

Smiling at the thought, he agrees, "Yes. We should." His words are muffled by her skin and his refusal to move away from her body, but she appears to hear him well enough.

"No, not us. You."

Chuckling at the absurdity of her statement, because why in the world would he be going anywhere without her, least of all to bed, he uses the flat edges of his fingernails to scrape the underside of her breasts, delighting in the shiver that vibrates through her body and into his.

"Please, Castle. I just need fifteen more minutes."

"I just need ten."

Flicking his tongue between his lips, he tastes the sweat that's beading on her skin, and, for the first time since he walked out here, her body calling out to his, he realizes that she's cooking. He'd been so focused on her that he hadn't seen the array of ingredients and utensils scattered across the countertops. It's not that she doesn't cook – far from it – it's just that it's early and they have the day free from work, so really, they should be in bed.

"Really, Castle? That's how you try and entice to me to stop? The promise of ten minutes?"

"Okay, not my best sales pitch. But what are you doing?"

Huffing, Kate turns, looking directly at him - her beautiful, deep, and slightly beseeching eyes boring into his – and she explains, to a degree. "It's a surprise and you are ruining it by being awake. Back to bed."

Angling his head, he attempts to get a better look at the counter now that she has been forced to reveal this information, but every time he moves right, her body shifts, blocking his line of sight with her stunning smile and he sighs in defeat. He could see if he truly wanted to, but she has gone to all this trouble, so the least he can do is go along with the ride.

Brushing a chaste kiss to her nose, he lifts both hands in defeat, stepping back a fraction, before feigning a shuffle left but she reads his move, continuing to conceal all that is behind her, and he turns for real this time.

"I'm going. I'm going. But at the risk of never getting another ten minutes with you in the bedroom again, you do realize that tomorrow is the first, not today?" Looking over his shoulder as he heads back toward the bedroom, he catches sight of her tongue sticking out in his direction. That would be a yes, then.

"Shit!"

So focused on her tongue, her mouth, the wicked things that may have jumped into his imagination at the glimpse of it poking out at him, he's missed the edge where the floor meets the counter's wall and his little toe is paying the price.

Pain, like a knife piercing through his skin, is already bringing tears to his eyes, his left hand wrapping around the poor appendage as he squeezes hard in a misguided yet well-used method of stopping the throbbing sensation. Jumping on his un-maimed foot, Castle reaches for a flat surface but catches his fiancée instead.

"Hey. I got you."

Holding him steady with one arm, she uses her other hand to drag the nearest stool to him and he maneuvers slowly until he can sit comfortably, his now mangled leg bent so his toes can rest on his knee.

"Damn it. I think it's broken."

Giggling under her breath, he feels the air puff against his cheek, Kate brushes her lips to the hollow of his cheek before asking, "Did I make it better?"

"Mmmmm. Nope, it still hurts."

Her lips stretch in a smile he can feel against his skin, gliding her mouth delicately against his, she goes in for another attempt, this one much more thorough than the first. Oh he could get used to this-

"Shit."

Jumping back, Kate scurries to the stovetop, her hands dragging through her hair as she looks down at what is cooking, and he hopes – for both of them – that whatever it is isn't too burnt.

"Will breakfast be okay?" Placing both of his hands onto the stool's seat he tries to leverage himself higher in order to see inside the pan, but she's already moving it to the back burner. This is just not his morning.

"Shit!"

Having turned back to him, Kate's progress toward him is halted, her hand rising over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror and he panics. What's gone wrong now?

He doesn't get a chance to ask though. Already she is rushing to his side and as her fingers carefully drift in the direction of his foot, he sees what she does.

The all-encompassing pain that is now his entire foot had masked the fact that his poor little toe is now more sideways than straight and he comprehends, as his stomach gives a dangerous roll, that he has _actually_ broken his toe.

"Oh. My. God."

Jerking away, Kate heads for the freezer, pulling out a bag of peas, while he divides his shocked stare between the throbbing mess of his foot and her efforts to collect as many frozen packages as she can.

Returning to him, she very, very, slowly places them on and around his foot, but he can't stop the yelp of pain, and the whine that it is so cold on his skin. Shaking her head, repeated, "sorrys," break through his continuous whimper of pain, and she retrieves a handful of paper towels, using them as a buffer between the cold and his skin.

"I think we should go to the hospital, Castle."

"No. I'll just keep it up and iced, and I'm sure that it'll be fine."

Lifting a disbelieving eyebrow, she looks at him with skepticism, and he pushes a smile onto his face. He is not spending their day off in a hospital.

Standing on his good foot, his hands catching the frozen goods before they fall to the floor, he offers another reassuring grin. "You finish your surprise breakfast, and I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom."

He can do this - hobble convincingly without tearing up from the pain that is now evolving into a stabbing-slash-stinging sensation covering the whole of his right foot. But he does wonder when the living area developed an extra square foot or two of space making the journey one hell of a lot more effort than it should be.

* * *

Placing his breakfast onto the tray, adding a coffee and a couple of Advil for his toe, Kate lifts the now completed surprise and walks from the kitchen to the bedroom, hoping that she will find him relaxing, his foot elevated and quickly getting better.

She had plans after breakfast that involved the rest of the melted chocolate, and she doubts they are going to happen if his leg is in any type of pain. Although she has been known to make him forget his name, state, and country; maybe she could help him forget the ache of a little toe.

"Hey, Castle. Happy - day before your birthday – birthday." Entering she's happy to see him lying down, but as she rests the tray on her side of the bed, she doesn't need to have known him the last five years to see he is in some serious pain.

"Oh. Babe. It's bad, isn't it?"

She can't see the offending toe under the bags of now melting vegetables, but the way his eyes are mere slits, his forehead furrowed to such an extreme that it is pushing his eyebrows down to his cheeks, are all bad signs.

"M'kay." The tension of his jaw makes his assertion anything but reassuring. "What did you make for breakfast?"

His entire body tilts sideways, a grimace curling his mouth downward and she moves toward his foot while explaining, "It doesn't matter. We're going to the hospital."

"But…" His fingers touch the side of the plate reverently and his head drops in defeat. "You made me a s'morelette."

The utter sadness in his voice cracks her heart and leaving his foot – damn, it really is bad – she sits at his hip, fingers gliding through the strands of his hair. Using the slightest pressure she encourages him to face her, and once their eyes meet, she soothes the pain he must feel over the whole situation. "Doesn't matter, Castle. I'll make them every day for the rest of our lives if you want me to. But you do need to be free from pain for everything that I have planned for you, so hospital it is."

* * *

Wriggling in the hard plastic seat, his ass having become as numb as his foot hours ago, he huffs for the thousandth time while they wait to be seen, and he starts a game of imaginary-how-their-morning-might-have-gone; their last turn at eye-spy had led to Kate threatening to sit on the other side of the room.

His s'morelette would have been amazing. He still feels the swell of tenderness expanding his heart at the thought that she had gone to the effort to make him one for his pre-birthday breakfast, even though she despises them. He imagines what may have come next; he's sure there was a pot of something next to the pan, something else she'd been cooking.

"Kate? What were you cooking in the small pot? The one next to the pan."

Sighing, she slumps further in her seat before answering quietly. "You don't want to know, Castle."

Looking sideways at her, he lifts an eyebrow. Obviously he wants to know or he wouldn't have asked!

Peering back at him, she lifts a hand, the side of her palm is streaked with a light brown color and he moves forward before hesitating at the last second. Surely…

"It's chocolate, Castle. I was melting chocolate for…"

Oh. Damn. Damn, him and his toe. Damn him and his birthday curse. Another year wrecked. Although last year a broken knee meant a trip to Bora Bora was replaced with the most epic murder mystery party ever. A broken toe isn't quite the same as a knee, but maybe...

"Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Are you now planning something special to top last year?"

* * *

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Hope this made your own broken toe a little less painful Lydian xoxo Thank you for your friendship and wise words of advice

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for the edits

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xoxo


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